Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Beholder

Blonde, skinny, blue eyes,
The Aryan dream
Doesn’t really matter
What’s on the inside
That parts unseen
She’s the trophy,
Yea, she’s the prize.
‘You are what you eat’ they say
She must be nothing,
Just empty, full of fluff and stuffing
Is this the ideal?
This what you want us to be?
Blonde Barbies
Who only look intelligent
With a script on TV?
What you gonna do?
Dress her up?
So you can rip it off
Then insert you
Can you insert a brain too?
Doesn’t really matter does it?
Brains don’t turn you on,
You’d much rather go
For one of the morons
Easy picking,
Finger licking
Later flicking
For the next one
No waiting round
You’re off like a gun
Sallow, mellow,
Excuses, excuses
You’re just shallow
As thick as a puddle
…As thin as a whistle
That’s how you like them,
That’s what does it for you
And just like the wind
You shoot right through
There one moment,
Gone the next
You left satisfied?
Was she really the best?
O no, wait, there’s still the rest
Of the bimbos
And blondes alike to do
You’ll never know
Until you screw all of them too!
Trust your lust,
They tell you,
‘Listen to your heart’
Give you a little hint:
Your heart doesn’t have a mouth!
You silenced it
That little voice is coming
From a little further south!
Look, listen to yourself
You’ve fallen hook, line and sinker
Into their trap
You’re another unthinker
Just look, want and chase
‘Look at that ass!’
Try looking at her face!
‘Wonder if she’s wearing silk or lace?’
There goes another personality
Gone to waste!
Just another tip;
You won’t find 3D women
In Playboy, Penthouse or Ralph
Careful use of airbrush and hairbrush
Make normal women look like ALF
Was Hitler really so wrong?
Killing people for real…
Is that better or worse
Than them killing themselves
To live up to an ideal?
Hitler might be dead
But the 3rd Reich lives on instead
Reporters, deporters, distorters
All have this image
Of the perfect woman,
They broadcast it everyday
In everyway, 24/7
We’re bombarded
With what we’re not
Then we think
We’re beautifully retarded
Seductress, enchantress,
But what about those
Who look like Loch Ness?
Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder?
I’d say beauty’s in the eye of the
be-moulder.

Written in 2004, age 17, after a rather horrible encounter with someone who said my boyfriend would dump me if I too many more chocolate biscuits.